It Isn't Everything
by Sarigo
Summary: Alfred and Arthur are best friends - however, when senior year rolls around, Alfred decides to take his life in a different direction. UsUk, will be around fifteen chapters long. Slight GerIta.
1. Summer's End

**Plot summary.  
**Alfred and Arthur are best friends - however, when senior year rolls around, Alfred decides to take his life in a different direction.

* * *

**An.  
**I really wanna write a GerIta fanfiction, but the only stuff I can think up are short or fluffy. :(

* * *

**Chapter 1.  
Summer's End.**

Every school has that one awkward group of friends.

You know, the group that sits at that one table and randomly shouts phrases from their favorite anime, and it honestly makes everyone around them mad, but no one ever says anything to them because they're slightly intimidating. Not intimidating in a bullying way, but intimidating in a "if you mess with me, I will learn voodoo and freaking break your arm" sort of way.

Oh, and they usually have that one person that buys a lunch and awkwardly stands in line by themself right behind you, and if you say hi they kind of just stare at you like you're growing antennae out of your inner ears.

Yeah, you know the one.

It just so happens that, even Gakuen Hetalia has this group.

They consist of a mere group of four.

Feliciano Vargas, whose own twin brother is too embarrased to be seen with him. He's a handsome young fellow, with auburn-leaning-towards-brunet hair, and chestnut colored eyes. His skin is a neutral tan, gained through his long hours outside. He's on the soccer team, which is pretty much his only achievement towards popularity. Also, he's best friends with the guy in the next paragraph.

Ludwig, who no one really bothered to learn the last name of, although everyone just assumed he was a Bielschmidt. He was in frequent denial of this. Now, Ludwig is a very, _very_ good looking fellow, with fair skin and blonde, slicked back hair and blue eyes. His looks, however, have proven not to be everything, as he if a very intimidating fellow. Be this because of his overall bearing, loud voice, or the face he always bore that screamed to the world "I punch children", it didn't really matter as I'm sure if he got rid of every one of those, people would still find a reason not to talk to him. Also, he's usually the one in the lunch line.

Arthur Kirkland, geek, and slight goth-boy. Now, he has never admitted to being a goth-emo-scene-whateverthey'recalled, but the fact that he spends his free time reading up on black magic is honestly frightening. He's a nice guy, with distractingly thick eyebrows and dark, southern-magnolia-tree-leaf colored eyes. Now, most people said he had emerald, but that's really because they were too lazy to say southern-magnolia-tree-leaf, which is really more like their color. If you disagree, you should really look up an image.

And last but not least, there's Alfred F. Jones. No one really knows what the "F" stands for, but most people like to come up with clever nicknames for whatever it could possibly be. He, to be honest, probably doesn't even know what the "F" stands for. He has dirty blonde hair and sky-blue eyes (that is unless it's raining outside, in which case they're not sky colored at all), and wears a pair of glasses. Not the cool, black-rimmed hipster sheek kind of glasses, either. Regardless, he looked pretty cool with his fashion, but was very loud and unbelievably obnoxious. He was also very stuck up. But, this didn't prevent him from being best-friends-forever with Arthur.

And that is where our story begins - not during school, but right before it, only a few days before summer began.

* * *

"Hey, Alfred...need some help?"

Arthur hopped out of the tree in Jones's front yard and approached his friend, whose hands were full of ice cream sandwiches.

"Nah, dude - I got this."

That was another issue with Alfred - his vocabulary mostly consisted of "idiot terminology". But the group didn't mind it.

He approached the tree, where he found Feliciano and Ludwig sitting near the bottom. It was a fully grown oak tree, with branches thick enough so that each of them could sit on the same one and it still wouldn't budge. However, they usually just sat on their own branch.

"'Sup guys? I brought ice cream so you'd better take them from me before the melt and stuff!"

He tossed them up to the two boys without warning. Ludwig caught his with one hand, while Feliciano nearly fell out of the tree catching his. He was startled, to say the least.

"Oh my God, Alfred, you need to be more careful with this kind of thing! I could have just lost my life over a silly ice cream sandwich! You really hate me, don't you? You wanted me to die, and now you're thinking about how it was a failed attempt!"

"Oh. Yeah, you've got me," he replied, climbing his way up into the tree with one hand, holding his and Arthur's in his right hand. "Looks like now I'll just have to sneak into your house and break all of your bones. Oh well, that was my original plan anyways."

Feliciano, alarmed, looked at Ludwig. "H-he's joking right?"

"I'm afraid not, Feliciano," Ludwig responded. "Your time is here."

"B-but I don't want to die!" he cried, and proceeded in whimpering through the rest of this chapter.

Alfred handed Arthur his ice cream once he made it up to his branch. He didn't say anything.

"Hey, Alfred?"

"Hm?"

"Are you alright?"

Alfred looked away, as if staring into space itself. The leaves blew faintly, giving off a quiet whistling noise. Alfred rarely heard this kind of thing, seeing as he was rarely quiet enough to hear it. He sighed, and looked back at Arthur, then removed his glasses to clean them off on his shirt.

"Yeah, I'm cool. I was just thinking."

Time flew by.

"I think I'm going to take Feliciano home," Ludwig responded. This normally would have been seen as an act of love, if it weren't Ludwig and they weren't next-door neighbors. "I'll see you guys later."

"Alright," Arthur responded. "Alfred, I'm staying over still, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then let's go get my stuff."

The two got out of the tree, and walked over to Arthur's house. They went through his things.

"Dude, you really shouldn't mess around with the boards, bruh," Alfred said, pointing towards the instrument of ghost-speaking. "That stuff actually works."

"Ah, yeah right. Hasn't worked for me."

"Dude - you're gonna get haunted by like, a demon or something if you use those."

"You don't say? Well then, you must be a demon, because you're the only thing haunting me."

"Is that your type of pick-up line?"

"Shut it."

They packed it all into Arthur's backpack and headed back. The walk between their houses was short - they lived in the same neighborhood, although on seperate ends. What really made it interesting was the quick change in scenery between Arthur's side of the neighborhood and Alfred's. On Arthur's side, there was a lot of gardening done, and flowers found their ways into every yard. There didn't seem to be any weeds, and everyone was growing at least one type of agricultural product - the most common being tomatoes.

On the other end, there was no grass, and most of what was there was either crabgrass or weed. Their idea of a flower was a dandelion, and where shrubbery was once commonplace, oak trees took over.

"Hey, Arthur?"

They were turning onto Alfred's street now.

"Hm?"

"Do you think that, just this year, we should actually..."

Arthur stopped walking and faced him. He was trailing, and if there was one thing he couldn't stand - it was Alfred's trailing.

"Actually what, Alfred?"

"Try being...you know..._in._"

"In what?"

"You know...popular."

Arthur rolled his eyes, turned back aroung, and continued walking. "No."

"Why not?"

"Well, I mean...don't you think we're fine as we are? Why do we need people to like us, as long as we have the four of us together?"

"Yeah, but..."

Arthur gritted his teeth, and stopped once more once they reached the front door of Alfred's house. He turned sharply, shaggy blonde hair flipping in front of his eyes and then back into place. He shook his head a few times, before speaking up. "But nothing, Alfred. You should be fine with us. I mean, we're all friends, and we aren't fake. Around _those _people, you won't be able to do half of the stuff you do now. You couldn't go on rants about TV, or make half of the jokes that you can make with us. Plus, popular people almost never hang out anywhere fun. With them it's always just...just malls and movies. You'd never get to go where we go, like...like-"

"-Like the junkyard, and the forest...yeah, I know..."

He shook his head.

"Doesn't matter, it was...just a thought."

"I hope so."

Alfred smiled, showing off his perfect teeth.

"Alright then, let's go play Halo!"

"But that's _so boring._ Why don't we play something less overdone and boring, like Castle Crashers?"

"Because, you freakin' hipster, HALO IS AWESOME."

* * *

**End-of-Chapter Notes.  
**Seriously. I would love to write a GerIta fic. I keep having ideas for UsUk stories, but not GerIta. What's wrong with me, world? WHYYYYY?


	2. August

**Plot summary.  
**Alfred and Arthur are best friends - however, when senior year rolls around, Alfred decides to take his life in a different direction.

* * *

**An.  
**Today, I went shopping for pads.  
We went to Target for them, and that's when I realized - I have no idea how to grocery shop.  
I mean honestly, one pack is $3.25, and the other is $3.75, and I'm just like, "Wait, what's the difference? Why is this one so much cheaper?"  
It freaked me out. Let it be known that my coverup items were potato chips and hair ties.

* * *

**Chapter 2.  
August.**

Usually, the loser table is the table nearest the chicken line, and the farthest you are away from the lunch lines, the better.

There are several theories as to why this is - some say it's because the popular girls don't eat, and that the sight of food bothers them on a deep level; thus they must sit as far away from the greasy calzones and vending machines as possible.

Others say it's just another trial of being popular - you should have to wait five minutes at your lunch table for your friends to show up and escort you to your line. This way, you can avoid awkward run-ins with the weird guy (Ludwig) in the lunch line, and no one will steal your spot because they believe it is taken. However, this also causes you to miss the most important time period of lunch - the time where everyone gets into line. Once you're five minutes late, all you get is the reject food that no one else wanted to eat, like the burgers that taste like snot running into your mouth in winter and the salad line whose ranch has a taste similar to bottled lotion from the flea market.

However, there is no actual, legit reason as to why the losers always sit to close to the chicken line. It just happens.

Ludwig, Feliciano, Alfred, and Arthur often sat at the edge of the table, so that the other strange people at the table wouldn't talk to them. Arthur and Feliciano often sat on the side with their backs to the rest of the cafeteria, since they lacked the confidence to be able to look up from their food and see someone staring at them. Ludwig and Alfred sat with their backs to the wall, facing the crowds, so that if anyone even dared to look in their direction, they'd quickly look away upon seeing Ludwig's glaring face and Alfred's...well, it was really just Ludwig that scared them.

"Dudes," Alfred said with a face full of barbeque. _He_ wouldn't even touch the school burgers, and that was all he ever ate back at home. "So like, school's back and stuff. What clubs are you guys gonna do?"

Feliciano spoke up. "Well, I'm probably doing the Anime Club again - I hear this year they're going to be focusing more on the older anime, since we got that cool hipster guy for the president. Ludwig, are you doing it as well?"

"No," Ludwig said, looking down at his hot dog. The school hot dog had a taste similar to the school hamburger, but they were usually some sickly yellow color and the few kids that ate them tended to coat them in ketchup. Ludwig had yet to touch it. Everyone at the table was secretly wondering why he would buy something like that if he knew he wasn't going to be eating it. "That's a social suicide. As well, the anime club is kind of creepy. At least it was last year, what with all of those weird fur people..."

"Dude, you were totally into that!" Alfred interrupted. "I mean, you didn't participate, but you seemed to really enjoy it!"

"I didn't. You're just assuming things because I'm German."

"I'll also be doing Musicians' Club this year, since I've perfected my guitar skills~" Feliciano continued. "And of course, you know I'll be on the soccer team."

"Sometimes, I don't understand why girls don't like you, Feliciano," Arthur said. Although, when he looked down at Feliciano's backpack, he remembered why. The bag was bright orange and made to look like the face of a cat.

"I don't know either," Feliciano chuckled. "You'd think they'd be all over me."

Ludwig sighed. "I guess...I guess I'll join some newer clubs. Like the Rifle Team, and the Writer's Club..."

He was an ROTC kid, and had been serving the Drill Team for three years. Rifle Team was a personal goal of his.

"Waah? You won't join any clubs I'm in?" Feliciano asked. "But we only have one class together!"

"Well, I'm not exactly a musician," Ludwig replied. "I can't play an instrument. And I'm already in a sport."

Feliciano whimpered. Alfred grinned. "What about you, Arthur?"

"Oh, me? I'm...well, I'm considering joining Archery Team, since they have one this year. And perhaps the International Club."

"You really need to make up your mind," Alfred said. "As for me, I'm joining Drama Club, and trying out for the football team."

Everyone paused.

"The...football team?" Arthur asked. "Why on earth would you want to do that?"

"Because I rock at football, bro! I'm freakin' awesome! And plus, there are cheerleaders and stuff."

"Well, I can't argue with that..."

* * *

**Chapter 2, Part II  
French Class**

French class was a strange class, as it was taught by a Japanese woman who had very little experience teaching and a strange accent that, to a French person, would probably be harder to understand than a Vietnamese accent is to an American.

Fortunately for the woman, she had Francis Bonnefoy, a boy who was literally straight from France. And boy, did the girls love him.

Arthur sat in the front of the classroom, hoping he would learn a lot this year. Sadly, it was hard to learn when everyone around you was flirting with Francis who, being a kiss-up, sat right between Arthur and the teacher's desk.

"Bonjour, madamoiselle Sato," Francis said to the teacher, beautifully, then followed his act up by kissing her hand. The teacher blushed, and looked away.

"Bonjour, Francis. Please take your seat, class is about to begin."

He sat down, grinning at the teacher, then turned his head to look at Arthur. "Oh, hello, petit garçon. What is your name?"

He winked at him, sending uncomfortable chills down his spine. He was fairly certain that, if the French acted like this, he definitely would not be visiting any time soon.

"My name is Arthur Kirkland, and...wait...did you say petit?"

"Are you not a new student?"

"I'm a senior here."

"Oh, but you're so short! I didn't realize - I'm sorry~"

Arthur gritted his teeth, and looked down.

"Sure."

* * *

**Chapter 2, Part III  
The Football Team Sign-Ups, and Beyond.**

All of the papers for sign-ups were on a bulletin board at the front of the school. Alfred and Feliciano decided to walk together.

"I can't believe Ludwig won't do even one club with me! I'm his best friend, and he doesn't even want to hang out after school! The Rifle Team will take three days off of his week already, and then the Writer's Club...he'll never be able to see me!"

"Dude, chill out," Alfred responded. "You're acting like he's your boyfriend or something."

"Don't even say that, Alfred! That's disgusting!"

"You're such a girl, bro."

He approached the big yellow paper for football, and signed his name. To the side, he posted his homeroom. Feliciano did the same on the blue-green soccer paper. Looking down the list of names, it seemed like a lot of guys signed up for football. Among the names were a few that he, unfortunately, knew - there was Gilbert Beilschmidt, Lovino Vargas, Heracles Karpusi, Berwald Oxenstierna, and Basch Zwingli. He wondered why they all had such difficult to pronounce names, and felt bad for the coach. Then, he wondered why Heracles was joining, because he was a total pothead.

The only name he recognized for soccer sign-ups was Antonio Carriedo, who had always been a soccer star. Even though talking to Feliciano was basically a sin to the students of this school, he had always been really nice to him, ever since they were both little kids. He acted as sort of an older brother to Feliciano.

Alfred was majorly hated by him, and he was also afraid of Ludwig.

"Yay! My big brother's doing soccer again with me!" he chanted, excitedly. Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, except he calls it football."

"That's because he's _Spanish_, Alfred!"

Arthur ran up to meet with them, and smiled. Ludwig wasn't far behind.

"Did you sign up?" he asked Alfred, interested.

"Oh, yeah. Totally How was...how was French class?"

"Ugh. Don't even ask. I had that weird French kid in my class...you know, the one who just moved here?"

"But he moved here like, half a year ago."

"And yet, they still treat him like a new student. He's so weird - he's even starting to grow in a beard, Alfred. _A beard. _And he's-"

"You haven't started growing a beard?" Ludwig interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

"N-no? Have you? I've never seen your face with one."

"That's because I'm required to shave for ROTC. Plus, I'd look horrible with a beard."

"W-well, then that's just you!"

"I've started growing a beard, I just shave mine," Alfred said, looking awkwardly at him.

"Me too," Feliciano replied. "I have been since I was eleven."

"What the heck? But none of you even have stubble!"

Arthur pouted, angrily. Alfred sighed, and put a hand on his shoulder as if to say, I'm sure one day you'll have a beard. Although he really hoped he never would have one, because if he grew a beard, he'd look kind of psychotic and, possibly, worse than Ludwig would if he had one.

They each walked home together.

It's another rule of the jungle that each student's backpack says something about themself. Arthur, for instance, had a bag that was made out to look like a British flag, to resemble his heritage. It was honestly a very neat backpack that, in part, screamed "Hello, I'm from Britain, and I can't cook!"

Then, there was Alfred's bag, which was honestly too much and kind of ugly. It had a blue background, with several different comic book sound effects written everywhere, like "BAM!" and "POW!", and even one or two "SHA-BLAAANG!"'s. It was definitely his bag, and he never got it mixed up with anyone else.

Feliciano had the cat bag, previously mentioned, and Ludwig had a plain-as-day black bag, which probably represented what an emotionless pit he was.

The four of them really weren't alike. If you looked hard enough, you could probably find some minor similarities, but it was still strange that the four of them were friends.

Which is probably why Alfred felt the way he was starting to feel...

* * *

**End-of-Chapter Notes.  
**Ew, bad ending. D:  
Reviews, my friends? :D?


	3. September

**Plot summary.  
**Alfred and Arthur are best friends - however, when senior year rolls around, Alfred decides to take his life in a different direction.

* * *

**An.  
**A continuation of my GerIta rant;  
I think, deep down in my heart, that Italy would be a seme. I mean, not like a masochistic seme like what everyone seems to think about, but like the type of seme where they "bottom from the top".  
He's the initiator, in lighter terms.  
I'M NOT A PERVERT.

* * *

**Chapter 3.  
September.**

Every English class has the potential to be either the greatest, most eye-opening experience ever, or the worst thing that could ever happen to anyone. Some say it depends on the choice of books you are forced to read that semester; others say it's the teacher that can be both a walking encyclopedia of life, and a lazy good for nothing oaf that just sits on a chair and has you read for the entire class period.

But to Feliciano Vargas, it was his classmates that made his English period a living hell. Or, to be more accurate, his class_mate_. This particular classmate was, by definition, a douchebag. Not only to Feliciano, but to everyone in the entire class - especially the teacher, whom he was always correcting.

Now, what could this particular character's name be? Could it be a Chad, a Mike...or even a Kevin?

No, this character's name is Roderich Edelstein - which isn't a very douchebag sounding name, but...well, forget it and see for yourself.

"Feliciano?"

Feli woke up from his nap and looked up at his teacher's sweet face. She was a very kind woman, with short blonde hair and awkwardly large breasts for her size. She was also very goofy and oblivious to nearly everything that went down.

"Hm? O-Oh, yes, Miss Chernenko?"

He suddenly turned very red, embarrassed that he had dozed off again. However, she seemed not to notice that he had in the first place. "Did you pick a partner, dear?"

He was confused. Partner? For what? He looked around the room, seeing that nearly everyone was already paired. He looked at her, weary.

"No ma'am, I'm sorry~"

"It's fine. I was actually looking for someone who was free to be partners with Roderich...if you don't mind?"

His smile widened. He was happy to not have to pick for once, and had never worked with Roderich before - much less noticed him. "Yes ma'am! I'd be happy to!"

Jumping out of his seat with excitement, he ran over to greet Roderich. He was a handsome boy, with glasses and a beauty mark on the left side of his face. He sat down beside him, and grinned. "Hello, Ro-"

"Let's just get started."

"-derich...um...I was actually going to introduce myself so that we might work together better!"

Feliciano put on a goofy smile.

"I already know who you are - I hear your name every day. I've also heard you talk to enough people - who, by the way, really don't give a fuck about anything you're saying - to know nearly everything about your daily life. You own one cat, of which you have named after yourself, and you live with your grandfather and your weird older brother that pretends to hate you. By the way, I think he really does hate you, so you can quit lying to yourself and saying he doesn't hate you."

"O-oh...okay...um...well, what about you?"

"I don't want you to know anything about me, because I don't plan on us being friends. Look, if we can just get started, I'll do all of the work and you can sit there, go to sleep, read a book or _something_."

Feliciano stared at him for a few seconds, then slowly nodded. He laid his chin on his arms, worried about just how this would turn out.

"Oh, and try not to rush, everyone - this is a project that will last a month. And all partnerships are final, and...oh yeah, that's it!" chimed Miss Chernenko, sitting back at her table and leaning over her desk to watch soap operas on the computer.

Feliciano didn't even know what project she was talking about.

* * *

**Chapter 3, Part II  
The Tryouts**

Alfred looked around as he entered the dressing room. He barely remembered what this place looked like at all, since he hadn't been in any physical education classes after ninth grade. It was colored an ugly shade of blue - the lockers had the paint peeling away, revealing where they had once been yellow. There was a tile going halfway up each wall, light blue, off white, light blue, off white, random yellow stain. No one knew where the stain had come from, but it had been there since Alfred first entered the school.

He looked away from the rest of them and changed into shorts and a different tee-shirt.

"Well, I didn't believe it when I read it, but look who's here!"

Vash Zwingli was pointing at him, hinting at a smirk but not really because, frankly, he didn't make faces. That's when Gilbert turned around and began his obnoxious, repetitive laugh.

"Isn't that something?" he asked, walking towards Albert, who groaned and finished tying his shoe. He stood straight up, and was equal in height with Gilbert. "Why, I would almost think my eyes were deceiving me, if my eyes weren't awesome."

"I'd know that idiotic accent anywhere," Albert remarked, taking a second to reply because he wasn't very good with retortions. (Is that even a word? Oh well.)

"Oh please, if I wanted a come-back, I'd wipe it off of your mother's face."

He did a laugh, which attracted the rest of the dressing room population.

"Wow, bro. That scarred me. I don't know if I'll be able to recover from that one. I'd better go tell the coach I'm unable to tryout-"

"Very funny, Alfred. Why are you even here? Shouldn't you be walking home with that sissy-boyfriend of yours?"

Alfred sighed, wondering if he should even say anything back to that. Before anyone could continue, however, the coach walked in. Everyone settled down and looked at the door.

"Well, I see we're getting friendly," the coach replied. He then shook his head. "My name is, to you, Coach Feliks. That is what you will call be because none of you could ever even attempt to pronounce my last name. Now, say hello to me!"

Everyone looked awkwardly at each other, knowing that this wasn't their usual coach. This man was...definitely not a football guy.

"...Hello, Coach Feliks?" they said-asked.

"Good, now I want you all to go do some laps or something. Wait, no, I know something better! I want you to go and...hm...yes, laps actually sound good. Go and do the forty yard dash thingy."

Forty yard dash?

"I will be having you run on a stopwatch. Now, go outside! Go, go, go!"

Everyone went outside, unsure of how to feel. Gilbert grinned.

"If you sissy babies don't mind, I will go first to put down your spirits!"

Coach Feliks pulled out his stopwatch and timed him, nodding his head as Gilbert reached the finish line. He smiled as he wrote it down, and appeared very pleased. A few of the other participants slouched their shoulders, as if they knew they couldn't catch up to him. Alfred slowly made his way to the very end of the line. However, it had to have been a waste of time, because the line moved so fast that it was only a matter of minutes before he was at the front.

"Shit," he whispered to himself, looking at the coach, waiting for the whistle.

And the second that whistle blew, he took off. The first two seconds felt like a minute. He knew he could never make it at his current pace, he had to pick it up. This wasn't jogging, or running - this was sprinting.

If he even wanted the tiniest shot at making the team, he had to sprint. His eyes made their way over to the rest of the team. The coach already looked as if he were disapproving, and was clicking the pen to prepare to write. That's not what bothered him, though - what really got him were the smirks of Gilbert and his group, as if they were anticipating him to fail so that they could make fun of him for years to come.

_Sprint, Alfred._

His feet touched the ground and propelled him with each step; his arms pumped, body leaned slightly forward. The background became a blur, and if he stopped moving for even a _nanosecond_, he'd surely fall on his face. Underneath him, the grass ripped up.

The crowd's jaws dropped in unison. When Alfred reached that finish line, the only thing that the coach could muster up was a silent but loud "Holy shit".

* * *

**Chapter 3, Part III  
Change**

"So then, he leans over in his desk and with that pathetic, slutty French accent, he asks her, 'Oh, ma chère, if you are having troubles with my language, then perhaps you need a tutor?', and the girl actually asks if they could hang out after school! But you know, what really gets me, is that this girl is a straight "A" student, and both of her parents are from France! She even randomly speaks French in other classes with the others who speak it well! So it's like she _wanted_ him to get in her pants!"

"Uh huh? You don't say..."

Arthur glared at Alfred. He was a walking zombie! He had been ranting about Francis since they had left the school, and all Alfred had replied with were dull sound effects. He wasn't paying any attention. Arthur spun around and glared at him.

"What is your problem, Alfred?"

He blinked a couple of times, and looked at him with a confused tilt of the head.

"I...I'm sorry, man, I'm just...shocked..."

"About the whole football thing?"

"Yeah...I mean, after the whole tryout, the coach even came up to me and - do you know what he said? He said that I have the strongest chance at making the team! Out of everyone!"

Arthur sighed. Alfred looked so excited, more happy than he had been in years. He didn't know what to say to him.

"Well," Arthur began, getting the attention of his friend. He looked hopeful. "Alfred, do you really want to play this?"

"I do! More than anything!"

He looked down, wind tossing his hair in his eyes. "...I think the whole ordeal is stupid, and I hate that you're doing this. But...it's something that you really want...Alfred, I'm okay with you being on the team, I really am - just promise me something, okay?"

"Oh? What's that?"

Arthur blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn't sure why his face suddenly felt so hot, and he hoped it wasn't showing.

"Well...um...don't...don't change, okay?"

Alfred was taken back by this. He stared at Arthur, wondering if that's why he had so heavily objected him being popular. He grinned, and gave him a pat on the shoulder.

"I won't change - I mean, why would I, am I right?"

* * *

**end-of-chapter notes.  
**Yes, Poland is their coach. Isn't it amazing? POLAND. _I_ would tryout for the football team if I had _Poland _as my coach. I mean, look at him!  
HE'S POLAND! :D  
Reviews? :3


	4. October

**Plot summary.  
**Alfred and Arthur are best friends - however, when senior year rolls around, Alfred decides to take his life in a different direction.

* * *

**An.  
**I'm not a very romantic person - I'm freakin' 15, nearing 16, and I have yet to even _want_ to be in a relationship. Don't get me wrong, I date people, but I don't _like _them.  
But lately, I think I actually want to actually "Fall in love". Don't know, maybe it's just a phase.  
Anyways, here's chapter four. :D

* * *

**Chapter 4.  
October.**

There were at least four tables at Gakuen Hetalia that were dyed red. There were many guessed reasons as to why this was - most thought it was a prank, and some thought it was a mess-up in whatever factory they were created in. However, only one group knows the exact reason as to what caused this coloration.

"Ludwig!"

Feliciano ran over to the table and sat down across from him, panting. He had tears in his eyes.

"Oh my goodness, you have no idea how happy I am to see you! This morning, I had to work with that scary Roderich guy again, and he yelled at me because I tried to give him a hug!"

"Why would you...do that?" Ludwig asked, his patience already being tried. For a moment there, he had actually worried that something bad was going down.

"Well, he's always upset, so I thought, somebody needs a hug! And that's when it happened! Everybody looked at us with this grossed out face, like I was doing something wrong or whatever, and he turned this weird dark red shade, and he pushed me off of him! Oh, you should have heard some of the things he told me! It was horrible!" Feliciano flailed his arms to emphasize exactly how horrible it was. "He was like, oh, I'm not sure how to say this, so I'm just going to say what I can! He said to me, he said - 'What, are you some type of homo?' Can you believe him?! A homo, Ludwig! A homo!"

"Well, you don't exactly hug _strangers_, Feliciano."

"But he looked so sad!"

"That's because he's getting over a breakup. Anyone would be sad," butted in Arthur as he took his spot across from Alfred.

Feliciano stared at him for a minute, then shook the table violently. "WAHH?! He had a lover?! Well no wonder he's sad! I know what I'll do! I'll make him some pa-"

That's when he shook the table so violently that his gatorade fell onto it's side and poured all over the table and onto Ludwig's lap.

"...I'm leaving now," Arthur said, getting up and walking away to nowhere. Alfred quickly followed, leaving Ludwig sitting there with Feliciano.

* * *

**Chapter 4, Part IV  
Based on a True Story.**

It was just above freezing outside when the school decided to have a fire drill.

"How the_ bloody_ hell does it get so cold out here in the middle of October?!" Arthur yelled in a whisper. Alfred shook his head.

"I don't know man, my fingers are freezing off..."

After a few minutes of standing around and having their heads tapped by teachers who were too dyslexic to just count their students in their heads, Arthur shivered spastically.

"It is _too cold _to be standing out here."

Alfred looked at him, and put on a half-smile. Then, it turned into a grin.

"Yeah, but you know what it's not too cold for?"

Arthur shrugged, not really interested. "What?"

"..._dancing_."

Alfred then started doing a dance that looked like it came directly off of Spongebob, where he lightly shifted his weight from left leg to right, moving his arms up and down in a jogging-fashion.

Arthur stared at him for a second, then joined him.

They sat in ISS for the rest of the day, wondering what the fuck had just happened.

* * *

**Chapter 4, Part V  
A Halloween Special, Written in August.**

Alfred adjusted his cape, tying it in a knot so that it wouldn't fall off. He messed with his fangs, just to be sure they weren't going to fall off.

"Hey, Arthur - how's it look?"

Arthur turned around and looked at his friend's costume. It wasn't half bad for something he had put together in one night.

"Holy crap, dude!" Alfred yelled, grabbing Arthur by the shoulders. "Your costume is amazing! What are you calling it?!"

"Well, I'm Jack the Ripper," he said, tilting his top hat and looking back in the mirror. He had blood splatters randomly placed on his suit that looked like it had just been taken straight from the eighteen-hundreds, and a fake, "blood"-soaked knife in his gloved hand. If it weren't frightening to think it, Alfred would say it were almost an attractive look for him.

"Impresive," he remarked. "Much better than my vampire suit."

"It's fine. Now, go hang around the front door while I finish decorating - Ludwig and Feliciano will be over any minute now."

Alfred stood at the door, excited for the party to begin. Sure, it would only have four people, but if there was anything he knew, it was that four people could make a party better than thirty any day.

The doorbell rang, and Alfred approached it. "Arthur - they're here! Go ahead and come to the fron-"

Ten people poured through the door, nearly killing him in the process.

"What the hell...?"

He turned around. Some of the guys he recognized from the football team, but the rest of them were completely unfamiliar faces. He looked out the door, and approached the group.

"Um, guys? What are you doing?"

Berwald, one of the guys on his team, turned towards him. The entire group got quiet. He removed his glasses, and looked Alfred right in the eye. "We are here to party."

His voice was heart-shatteringly intimidating.

"O-okay..." he said. "I'm not really sure if there's enough food..."

More people were entering the house, without even ringing the doorbell. A few people brought some chips and sweets, but other than that, most people were taking the food for themselves. Ludwig and Feliciano were nowhere to be seen.

"Jesus Christ," Arthur yelled. "This is like every teenage movie ever made!"

"I know, right?!" Alfred replied. "Hey, let's make sure my bedroom isn't being used by some horny couple! I think I might kill myself if that goes down."

The two of them made their way upstairs and, luckily, his bedroom is vacant. Alfred shut the door.

"Man, this bites..." he groaned.

"I don't even know how they found out about this," Arthur whined. "You're screwed, bro. Especially when your parents come home..."

Alfred buried his face in his hands. "Damn," he said, sitting down on the floor next to him. The two sat in silence for a long time.

"How are they not bored yet?" Arthur asked after an hour.

"I have no freakin' idea, yo. I'm kind of having a spaz attack."

Alfred leaned against the bed, shirt riding slightly up his stomach. Arthur looked down, and his eyes widened. "Al, when did you get that?"

"What? Oh, this?" he asked, pointing to his newly formed muscles. "I guess from practicing and football."

"Wow. Impressive!" he said, looking at him in awe. Alfred shrugged away.

"It's nothing, really. You're kind of scaring me, though."

"Oh. Sorry," Arthur laughed, backing off. "Guess that was kind of weird..."

"Yeah, no kiddin'."

They sat at the foot of the bed for a while.

A knock came at the door, the voice sounding vaguely like Vash's.

"Hey, man - are you using the room?" he asked. Alfred stared at the door in horror.

"Uh...yeah, I'm...scoring with a hot babe!" he yelled, locking the door.

"Oh? For real?! Wait, who? It isn't Erika, is it!?"

"N-no it's uh...Ar...Ariana! Yeah!"

"Who?"

"She goes to a different school! Now would you stop talking to me, you're kind of turnin' her off!"

There was an awkward silence, and then his voice came again.

"Hey man, are you lying to me?"

Alfred's heart skipped a beat. _What do I do? I can't let him come in here! He'll wonder what I'm doing with Arthur alone in a bedroom at a party an-_

Suddenly, he heart a squeaking sound. He turned around to find Arthur jumping on the bed. He stopped, and turned to the door. In the highest voice he could muster, he yelled "Go away! Can't you tell we're busy in here!"

Alfred stared at him in shock, then smirked. He chirped in, "Oh Ari!"

"OH AL!"

* * *

Ludwig and Feliciano couldn't even make it into the house, so they decided to just walk back home.

"He hates us!" Feliciano yelled. "He said it would just be the four of us, and then he invited that many people over!"

"He doesn't hate us, Feliciano..."

"How can you be sure?!"

He was sobbing now.

"Ugh...look, he doesn't hate us. We're his best friends..."

"He's just saying that! You _know_ he wants to be popular! Once he gets what he wants, he'll abandon all of us! Then Arthur will leave and then you-"

"Don't say it-"

"-Then you'll leave me there, all alone!"

He fell to his knees. Ludwig sighed, and face-palmed. "Look, I wouldn't leave you..."

"You might! You won't even join any of the clubs I'm in! We only have one class together, and you never talk to me anymore!"

"I never talk."

"Why not?! I don't want to lose you guys! You're my only friends!"

Ludwig growled. "Calm down-"

"I love you guys! I can't handle it!"

"Feliciano...you are SUCH A CRYBABY!"

He covered his mouth. Feliciano looked at him in shock. "W-wha?"

"You're..._always, always crying,_" he paused, not sure if he possessed the ability to say the rest. He gulped. "You're hyper, and loud, and you're always randomly hugging me when you see me in the hallway, and I can't even push you away! Everyone thinks we're...a _thing_. It drives me insane! I'm so, so tired of having to be your babysitter!"

He stared at Feliciano for a straight minute without saying anything else. All Feli could make were faint noises of shock. The wind picked up and began to mess up his hair. "L-Ludwig? What are you...talking about?"

Ludwig shook his head. "You're...annoying..."

And with that, he got up, and walked away.

"What...just happened?" Feliciano asked himself, completely lost. He shook his head. "Don't worry yourself, Feli, I'm sure he's just stressed...yeah, that's what it is."

* * *

**end-of-chapter notes.  
**And here, we have yet another crappy ending, as made famous by me.  
Not really, but sometimes it feels like it.  
ER-MER-GERD, I've actually been _reading _fanfiction for the past few days, instead of writing it. It's like, amazing. :D  
Reviews? :3


	5. Feliciano's Filler Episode!

**Plot summary.  
**Alfred and Arthur are best friends - however, when senior year rolls around, Alfred decides to take his life in a different direction.

* * *

**An.  
**I may not like Tennessee, but what I do like is that everyone here has cable. Well, that's what it seems like. So, I get to watch The Regular Show and Adventure Time for the first time in _forever_. Like, I haven't seen Adventure Time since it was pretty much first out. Before it was mainstream.  
HIPSTA' THUGGIN'.

* * *

**Chapter 5.  
Feliciano's Filler Episode!**

Feliciano's morning routine consisted of three main things: Shower, eat, go to school. His showers usually took around twenty minutes, which was exceptionally long for someone who isn't a girl.

He washed his hair, looking up at the shower nozzle. He'd forgotten pretty much all of last Friday, and was looking forward to speaking to Ludwig. He hummed to himself, and wondered what adventures would come to him today. He worried about having to work with Austria again, and grew excited when he thought about soccer practice.

"I wonder if Ludwig will come watch me today~" he thought out loud. "Veh, that would be very nice!"

The soap ran down from his hair to his neck, and onto his face. Yelping, he quickly reached for a towel.

"Ahh, I have soap in my eyes!" he yelled, wiping at them. He sat down in the shower, sniffling for a good five minutes. When he recovered, he quickly sat up and continued rinsing his hair. "I wonder if Ludwig ever gets soap in his eyes~"

He got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. When he left the bathroom, the only thing on his mind was what to wear. He went through his closet, grabbing and releasing several different outfits. Eventually, he decided on jeans and a white tee, because he had read somewhere that wearing plain clothes would make people wonder more about your personality, since it didn't show through your wardrobe. He smiled.

"I think I should tell Ludwig this," he said. "He's always wearing green and black. If he wore white, he might get the ladies!"

Excitedly, Feliciano ran down the stairs and grabbed breakfast. The five extra minutes from his shower would mean that he was late for meeting up with Ludwig! He quickly brushed his hair, watching his natural curl rise up with liveliness.

"Good morning, hair!" he said, laughing, and running out the front door. Lovino stood behind him.

"That guy is a real freak," he said, sighing.

The morning waiting place was usually at the stop sign at the end of the street, but today, it was a little bit further than that, randomly placed on the sidewalk. Feliciano caught up to Ludwig. "Good morning, Luddy!" he yelled, hugging him from behind.

Ludwig pushed him away, and walked further. He didn't say anything in reply.

Feliciano followed him.

"Veh, is something wrong, Luddy?"

"Don't call me that," he growled.

"Okie-dokie, he said, then looked around. "Hey, Ludwig? Do you ever get soap in your eyes in the morning, and does it hurt you? I mean, it hurts me really bad, even makes me blind for a minute or two, and with you, I don't think I could imagine you ever being in pain!"

Ludwig didn't respond, and picked up his pace. Feliciano sped up as well.

"Hey, are we going for a run? I thought we usually only did this after school because you don't want to get all covered in sweat and stuff! Although I guess that was back when it was hot outside in the morning, now it's super cold!"

Ludwig stopped cold, and looked him in the eyes. It lasted a good thirty seconds.

"L-Ludwig?"

Ludwig shook his head and turned back around, walking the rest of the way to school by himself. Feliciano stood there, confused, until he realized what time it was and that he was about to be late.

* * *

**Chapter 5, Part II  
Yes, Chapter 4's Roman Numerals Are Wrong.**

Feliciano made his way over to sit at Alfred's table. It wasn't really _his_ table, but everyone called it that for some reason. It could have been because he was a leader, but so was Ludwig and no one called it "Ludwig's Table". How weird.

Oh right, Ludwig.

He stopped and looked at the table, who's only current inhabitant was Arthur. He wondered if he should sit there or not, when he saw a few girls walk outside. The thought of women overwhelmed him, and he made his way outside, without saying a word.

The outdoor seating area was all but deserted, thanks to the weather. There was a small group sitting at a table, including the girls Feli had seen leave, and one guy.

The boy was a senior as well, with chocolate-brown hair and olive-toned skin. He dressed lazily, in a blue t-shirt and baggy jeans, with plain black sandals. His eyes were a dark shade of green, almost dark enough to be considered hazel.

The girls all around him were cuddling him, feeding him different samples from their lunches.

"Ah, Emily, I like you very much," he said to a girl with fried black hair as she fed him a strawberry from her meal. Another girl, this one with natural auburn hair, held up a grapevine to him. "And Jennifer, I like you too~"

Feliciano knew this guy. He was on the football team with Alfred - his name was Heracles. He was notorious for being both a womanizer, and showing up to school high three out of every five days.

"Excuse me ladies," he whispered, and looked up at Feliciano. "Hello, Feliciano. What brings you out here?"

"I, er...I just needed somewhere to sit."

"Well, you have come to the right place. Come - sit with me."

Feliciano sat down across the table from Heracles and his harem. With a snap of his fingers, Heracles had half of them get up and cuddle with Feliciano instead.

"Feli, my name is Amanda," a blonde said, holding up a meatball from her spaghetti meal. "Would you like some spaghetti?"

He grinned. "I like you very much, Amanda~"

* * *

**Chapter 5, Part III  
So, Did You Even Notice The Roman Numerals In Chapter Four?**

Ludwig stood, propped up against one of the many oak trees around the school.

"Seriously," he thought out loud. "Why are there so many of these trees? A willow or two would be nice..."

Feliciano exited the school and started to walk by him. When he noticed Ludwig was standing there, he quickly started to spring.

"H-hey, Feliciano - wait up!"

Feliciano turned around, staring at him with wide, horrified eyes. Ludwig approached him, nervously messing with the back of his neck. He wouldn't look directly at him, and his nose was a light red.

"Can we...walk home together?"

The brunet looked down and nodded. He smiled weakly and stood next to his taller friend.

The walk home was only a fifteen-minute long walk by foot, and by car, it was more like two minutes. They passed through Arthur and Alfred's neighborhoods, and began to cross a busy road.

They had only just made it into the neighborhood when Ludwig stopped walking. "I uh...I owe you an apology..."

"Veh?"

Feliciano continued walking. He didn't want to admit it, but he was angry at Ludwig for ignoring him. At the same time, he was incredibly saddened. Ludwig looked up and saw that Feliciano was getting away, so he chased after him.

"Feliciano, look - I'm...sorry."

"Sorry for what? Friday, or the fact that you've been ignoring me?"

"Everything. What I said was so wrong, and so random...I was just frustrated."

Ludwig's cheeks were starting to grow pink again. He scratched his head, forgetting that it was currently slicked back, and sighed. His bangs started to stand up from being messed with, which honestly looked kind of ridiculous. Feliciano wanted to laugh, but he contained it.

"I don't...I don't think you're annoying. You're just lively, and I'm...not. I wish I were."

Feliciano shook his head and ran up to him, giving him a hug. Ludwig stared at him for a long time, unable to make a move from the shock. His whole body locked up, and his face got even darker than it was before. _Dead kittens, Ludwig, dead kittens._

He looked down and, after calming down, wrapped his arms around the smaller figure. Feliciano opened his eyes, wide.

"L-Ludwig?"

Ludwig blushed and backed away.

"I er...I should be going. I'll...see you tomorrow."

"Wait, Ludwi-"

And just like that, his friend was gone.

Feliciano stood still.

"Ludwig...do you..."

* * *

**end-of-chapter notes.  
**See, I can't write romance. I'm such a comedian, I can't handle such seriousness! *dies*  
I'm writing this story too fast! Before I know it, the whole thing will be over, and I'll be left sitting there, like, NOOOO.  
Reviews? :3


	6. November

**Plot summary.  
**Alfred and Arthur are best friends - however, when senior year rolls around, Alfred decides to take his life in a different direction.

* * *

**An.  
**Ugh, I can't stand children. I'm still in freaking Tennessee, and I'm staying with my mother's friend, who has two sons. The younger one is six, the older one is eight. Both make me want to kill myself with the amount of noise they make.  
Earlier, when I was writing Chapter Four, they kept throwing cucumbers and bananas on me. Why only penis shaped foods? D:

* * *

**Chapter 6.  
November.**

"So, are we still gonna hang out at your house this weekend?"

Arthur was walking beside Alfred, carrying two textbooks in his hands because his backpack really didn't have the room. The hallway was packed with people preparing to leave. It would have been a less dreadful crowd if Gakuen Hetalia weren't the only freaking high school in this damn town.

"Oh, yeah. Totally, dude. And I got this new video game, it's supposed to be super scary and stuff, so I wanted someone to be over and play it with me. If you're gonna be a wuss, you want to be a wuss while someone else is there, am I right?"

Alfred opened his locker, which was surprisingly neat considering Al couldn't clean to save his life. He grabbed one or two binders, and shoved them in his bag.

"Yeah, I suppose you are."

Vash and Berwald approached them with their friends, and Heracles with his women. Vash turned over and looked at Alfred.

"Hey, Jones."

Al turned around, unsure of who could be calling him. He looked surprised when he figured out just who was addressing him, and smiled in a friendly way.

"Hey, man. You busy this weekend?" Vash asked him.

The whole hallway went quiet. Alfred looked around, then looked back at him.

"Uh, yeah - on Saturday. Why, what's up?"

"Oh, nothing. I was just wondering if you might want to go see a game of baseball, but it was on Saturday."

Alfred looked disappointed in himself. "I'm sorry. Maybe next time."

"Yeah."

Heracles approached him and put his hand on his shoulder.

"I heard about you and Ariana."

Arthur blushed beside him, looking away. He felt weird, having so many people talking to Alfred with him just standing there, but "Ariana"had become _the _subjectbetween him and Alfred over the past week. It was something they laughed about, but definitely kept quiet about. Even Ludwig and Feliciano didn't know about it.

"Oh, did you?"

"Yes. Good job."

And with that, the crowd left. Alfred turned back around to continue digging in his locker, while Arthur scanned the hallway. "Hey," Arthur began, saying it nonchalantly so as not to distract Al from his locker business. "You starting to notice people changing around you? Like, you're being treated a lot better."

"Nah, man, I haven't noticed."

"Did you...do anything recently?"

"Well, I'm on the football team...and I did just accidentally throw the most killer party ever..."

"Anything else?"

Alfred looked like he went into deep thought. "Hm, no...not really."

He closed his locker and pulled out the key for the padlock. Arthur continued gazing at the hall until something caught his eye - or, some_one_. His grey hair was neatly messed up, although today it looked a little flat. His eyebrows were slanted so that he was giving a pout, but the fact that he wasn't smiling was a shock. He usually carried around a cocky looking smirk.

His hair was blocking his eye, until he walked under the vent, revealing a swollen, purple-toned eye. He walked by Al's locker, looking up at Arthur with a pathetic and saddened face. He was definitely put-down about something. Alfred turned around after a couple of nudges from Arthur.

"Hey, what's up with him?"

Al looked around before realizing exactly who he was talking about. "Who, Gil?"

"Yea-wait, 'Gil'? Don't you mean Gilbert?"

"Oh, yeah. Same thing. And anyways, how should I know? He totally hates me."

"He had a huge...black eye..."

"Dude, I don't know what happened, alright? Can we just go now?"

"Oh...sure."

They walked down the opposite hallway than the one Gilbert had just passed through. Dispite Alfred's words, something still didn't seem right. He didn't have his usual group surrounding him, he had a black eye, and he wasn't grinning like he was all that and a bag of chips.

* * *

**Chapter 6, Part II  
****Soccer**

"Alright, buddy - now I want you to practice as a goalie, okay?"

"Okay!"

Feliciano ran over on the other side of the field and stood in front of the net. There was no practice today, but Ludwig was busy, and Antonio practically lived on the soccer field. He wanted something to do, so he figured, why not get some extra practice in?

"Alright, are you ready?"

"Yeah!"

Antonio smiled and kicked the ball - _hard_.

It flew across the field, seeming like if it went any faster, the grass itself would catch on fire. Feliciano stopped it, and kicked it back at an equal speed. Antonio grinned.

"Good, now let's take it faster, and at different angles."

One by one, Feliciano blocked every single shot and fired it back at his new friend. Antonio didn't take a break, he kept kicking shot after shot, not letting his spirits go down as he was intercepted.

Feliciano smiled as he went for the ball.

"Hey, bastards!"

Feliciano stopped dead in his tracks, letting the ball pass him (which caused Spain to do a happy dance), and turned towards the voice. Of course, it was his brother, Lovino.

"Hey, Lovi!" Antonio cheered. "What are you doing over here?"

He pouted and looked to the side, giving him a punk-ish appearance. "I...came to see about joining the soccer team...to see if you could do anything about it."

"Wha- but I thought you were on the football team!"

"I didn't...make the team..."

"Oh, big brother!" Feliciano yelled, although he wasn't the one being spoken to. "I'm so sorry-"

"Idiot. I've known for a while now. Well, Antonio - what can I do?" Lovino asked, pulling a soccer ball out from his bag.

Antonio thought about it. "Well, I am the most influential player...perhaps I could put in a good word for you, if you show your ski-"

Lovino kicked the ball into Antonio's stomach. "I'll do whatever. Goal, field...just assign something to me."

Antonio choked on air, and nodded. "Y-yeah, sure...Feli, will you let Lovi goal for me?"

Feliciano nodded. "Sure! I'll go ahead and go home if you like!"

Antonio smiled and nodded back, apologetically. Feli left the field, all the while hearing nothing but surprised sounding praise from Antonio...

"I hope..." he said to himself, taking one last glance at the field. "I hope this doesn't change anything..."

* * *

**Chapter 6, part III  
A Continuation On Part One**

****Alfred turned off the lights and sat down to play his game. His room was oddly set up so that his computer screen was the size of a TV, and was hooked up right in front of his bed. Saturday night, bitches.

He was on the bed, messing with the keyboard on his lap. Arthur sat beside him, looking at the screen.

"Oh, hey Ariana - sorry, I can't have sex right now, I'm too busy playing this sweet-ass game."

Arthur was getting a little bit tired of the joke, but not enough to not play along. "Oh, Alfred - you never have time for me and my tits anymore."

Al laughed. "Dude, you'd be a horrible girl!"

"You'd totally date me if I were a chick."

Alfred looked down. "Um...yeah."

Arthur tilted his head. Things were so weird between them since the school year started. They didn't joke as often, and he was starting to feel just flat out awkward around him, all the time. Even sitting next to him on the bed sent some sort of chills up his spine. He couldn't pinpoint exactly when he started feeling strange.

He didn't think this was the case (because honestly, he'd always imagined himself with a girl), but he often wondered if he was falling for him. They were best friends, and he could only imagine what kind of horrors would happen to him if he said _anything_ about the feelings.

_They're really not that big of a deal,_ he thought to himself. _I'm sure they're just random sparks of curiousity. Nothing more._

"Hey, Arthur?"

"Hm? What is it?"

Alfred looked at him. He still hadn't even turned the screen on. "Do you ever...get some sort of strange..."

"Huh?"

Al sighed and shook his head.

"You're trailing again, Al."

"Oh, sorry...it's nothing. Nevermind."

In part, Arthur was happy that he had quit his rambling because he was really damn excited to see just how scary this game was. On the other hand, he really wanted him to finish what he was saying.

He laid down on the bed and watched the game, trying hard not to focus on Alfred instead.

* * *

**end-of-chapter notes.  
**Tennessee is definitely not my happy place. Seriously.  
On another subject, part of me really wishes these chapters weren't divided up into months so that I could put more emotions into them, more details...it's definitely easier to do romance this way. :p  
REVIEWS?! :DDDDDD


	7. December

**An.  
**I, the author, would like to make a point here.  
WHEN YOU'RE IN THE DRESSING ROOM – DON'T FUCKING MESS WITH ME.  
And that's what this chapter is really all about.

* * *

**Chapter 7.  
December.**

In a girl's dressing room, it isn't uncommon for women to act strangely around each other. They might compliment each other's underwear, or say something oddly sexual.

But in a man's dressing room, that shit ain't right. Especially when you're both undressed.

Ludwig was minding his own business and preparing for today's physical training session. He was in the process of putting on his shorts, when he was approached by Freshman.

[no. that was not a grammatical mistake. keep reading.]

Now, it's one thing to approach someone while they're in their boxers, but it's a completely different thing to approach them when they're bent over in their boxers, and it's _even more of a different thing _to approach them from behind and nearly shove your junk up their ass.

Such was the case.

Ludwig jumped and shot straight up, moving away from the unwanted touch and not daring to turn around. Freshman grinned.

"Hello, Luddy!" he shouted. "Boy, do I have some exciting news for you!"

"Hello Fr-I mean, hello Kirkland..."

["Kirkland" was the last name of the boy, whose first name was Peter. However, in ROTC, you don't call each other by your first name.]

Peter was Arthur Kirkland's little brother, but everyone just called him "Freshman" because he was the most stereotypical ninth grader ever. He was also very creepy and didn't know the meaning of the words "personal boundaries" or "unwanted anal intrusion".

He grinned and continued getting uncomfortably close to Ludwig. His small boy parts were now centimeters away from awkwardly rubbing up on Ludwig's thigh. He wanted to cry.

"So, do you know what happened to Napolean Bonaparte's penis when he died?"

Everyone was leaving the dressing room. Soon, it would just be the two of them.

"N-no...I don't..." he said, trying desperately to get away.

"It was cut off, and displayed in museums all over the world," he said, pressing his flat chest onto Ludwig's back, sending shivers down his spine. "And they say that right now...it's in _New Jersey."_

For the rest of that class period, Ludwig didn't talk. He didn't want to talk. No, he didn't want to think.

What the fuck was wrong with this kid?

* * *

That was all based on something that happened to me. :D  
Except, I had boobs on my back. Boobs, and a rather large stomach.

* * *

**Chapter 7, Part II  
Well, looks like I'll be sobbing to The Beatles tonight.**

Arthur and Alfred had both grabbed chicken sandwiches for lunch today, because those things were heaven and they couldn't resist. However, the line wrapped all around the cafeteria, so they'd have to walk around it if they wanted to be able to reach the table.

They could have just said "excuse me" and walked through the middle, but that was uncomfortable.

"Hey, Al," Arthur spoke up as they exited the line. "I have a question."

"Yeah, bro? What is it?"

"Do you think anything's going on between Ludwig and Feliciano? Relationship-wise?"

Alfred tilted his head, and continued to work his way around the ridiculous lunch line. He wondered if the other lunchladies ever got jealous that no one wanted their line, even though they technically didn't make the food.

"Hm...well, I don't know. Feliciano I can totally see liking Ludwig, but on the other side of the coin, Luddy's a bit...well...he's kind of a macho guy. I don't think he'd travel down the yellow brick road, if you know what I mean."

He had no idea what that meant for about fifteen seconds.

They finally made it to the table, when Vash approached them, quickly. He looked down at each of them, then snapped his eyes to Alfred.

"Hey, Al."

Alfred looked up.

"Oh, hey Vash. What's up?"

"Well, we were wondering if you wanted to sit with us for the day?"

Alfred looked around at his friends, slightly astonished. "U-um..."

Arthur nudged him. "Just go," he whispered, smiling.

"What? Are you sure?"

"It's not like it'll be every day, just...you wanted to make more friends. Don't let us hold you back!"

Alfred sighed, then nodded.

"Sure, Vash. I'll be right there," he said, standing up and grabbing his food tray. "I'll see you after school, Arthur."

"Yeah."

* * *

**Chapter 7, Part III  
It's Ironic.**

He looked at his watch for the fifth time in the past two minutes. It was now fourty one minutes after school let out.

He leaned up against the tree, watching as absoluely nothing happened.

"Damnit, Alfred, where are you?" he asked, shuffling his foot in the dirt. It was weird to feel this way, but he felt as if he were being stood up.

He thought back to how Al's face looked when he left the lunch table the past week. He seemed really happy then. And when they had walked home together that day, he had a whole load of stories to share. He didn't seem to even miss them at all the next few days, and hadn't sat with them during lunch.

Could he be...?

"No," Arthur told himself. "Of course not. Alfred would never leave our group..."

Yesterday, Arthur waited twenty minutes for him to show up, and when he did, he seemed so distracted that it was like he wasn't even there. The walk home was nearly silent, with only a few words exchanged. His explanation for being late yesterday revolved around "talking to Vash".

"He'd never leave me, either!" he said, filling himself up with as much positive energy as he could muster.

It quickly left. Why did he feel so damn empty? So what if Alfred did leave; he could just find a new best friend. And he still had Feliciano and Ludwig!

_"...Best friends forever?"_

_Arthur looked up to see a young boy with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes staring at him. He was holding out his hand with a big, goofy smile on his face. _

_"Yeah, best friends forever. No matter what."_

_He saw his hand reaching out, with small, childish fingers and chubby palms. The two of them shook hands, and the young boy laughed loudly. Adorably._

_"Gosh, Arthur - you're blushing!"_

_"I-I am not!"_

_"You're always blushing."_

_"Is that a bad thing, Alfred?"_

_His face heated up in anger, but was quickly cooled off as Alfred grinned._

_"No way, bro! It's so cute!"_

_"Cute?"_

Arthur looked up at the sky. Why didn't he realize this before? Alfred wasn't just a friend...

At forty three minutes after school ended, he was still alone.

_I love him._

* * *

**end-of-chapter notes.  
**And the Stupid People of the Month Award goes out to you, fake ass bitches of America!  
In your reviews, write a rant about a fake ass bitch that has come into contact with your life! No names, please~  
And also, an actual review of the chapter would be nice. ;)


	8. Ludwig's Very Own Chapter

**An.  
**I only have one more day of summer left, and I'll be spending it watching the fourth season of Hetalia.  
But, that's only if my friend lets me stay and doesn't kick me out onto the streets like a homeless cat.  
Friend - I hope you're reading this. :I  
ALSO - This chapter is dirty.

* * *

**Chapter 8.  
Ludwig's Very Own Chapter**

In ROTC, the classes consist of three basic groups: The teacher, the cadre, and the students. The teacher, usually anywhere from a First Sergeant to a Captain, instructs the class on basic military rules and history. The cadre are the senior students, who lead physical activities and keep the class in line. And then, the students, whose real job is actually just to piss everyone off.

Ludwig was a cadre and, today, he was left with a very important mission.

"Yo, Beilshmidt - I got this letter from the Colonel. It's for you, he left it here before he disappeared this morning."

He looked up from his homework - because when he wasn't busy with students, he did his other classwork - and took the letter from his partner. Carefully opening it - because his OCD wouldn't let him just rip it open - he read the letter, and groaned miserably.

_Beilschmidt,_

_Today, I am leaving the students with you, since my wife is in the hospital. However, it is a sad fact that I have left you here on one of the most important educational weeks of the year: sexual education._

_No matter, I have left you with a packet of information to teach. Please make sure that it is taught efficiently and correctly._

_-Colonel $# &_

Ludwig looked at the letter in disappointment, reading it over to make sure it said what he thought. When he was sure of it, he stood up, and headed into the classroom. He walked towards the front, and everyone grew quiet.

There was a motto in that classroom that went like this: "You don't fuck with the Beilshmidt".

"Everyone, I have terrible news," he stated as the freshmen's eyes grew wide. "I have been left here...alone...to teach you all sexual education for the week."

A girl raised her hand. "Sir...is that even legal?"

"No, I'm sure it isn't. But you won't tell anyone."

The girl's eyes narrowed, then went back to wide. "I won't tell anyone," she said, brainwashedly.

"Good."

Freshman Peter raised his hand. "Sir, I look forward to this with high anticipation!"

"Shut up, Kirkland," the other cadre yelled from his office. That's the only thing that guy ever said. He then went back into his reclusive state to continue not talking for the rest of the chapter.

"A-Alright..." Ludwig said, nervously handing out small green packets with eerily drawn images of boys and girls on the front. "If you please, open up to...to page four...we'll start off by discussing sexual diseases..."

"Hey!" one of the freshmen yelled. "LOOK - PUBIC LICE."

Everyone laughed. Ludwig's face turned a dark shade of red.

"Guys, please settle down. Erm...um...we'll start with Chlamydia...but first, the Colonel left us a CD, so that we could study the names of the STDs..."

He put the disk into the CD player and hit play. It sounded eerily like a song off of Veggie Tales.

"Chhhhlamydia, it's the one that starts with C!" it sang, with laughter in the background of the song.

This was the single most fucked up thing he had ever heard in his life.

...

"Hey, Beilschmidt?"

"Yes, Kirkland?"

They were now studying the female anatomy.

"What would you do if women had c***s in their throats, instead of uvulas?"

Ludwig slammed his head on the podium.

"I don't know, Kirkland. I don't know."

Kirkland sat there awkwardly for a few moments, before raising his hand again.

"Beilschmidt?"

"...what?"

"Have you ever had sex?"

Everyone looked up from their packets at the blonde, who nervously backed up and began stuttering.

"U-um, well, er...well...I-I haven't, but...n-not because I'm lame or...or anything...I just. You know, I haven't...found anyone I like yet...and, well, when you find a mate, you want to..well, make sure you know that you like them, or else you could-"

"Beilschmidt?"

Kirkland again.

"YES, KIRKLAND?" he said, losing all nervousness.

"What does anal feel like?"

* * *

**Chapter 8, Part II  
Ludwig Makes A Sandwich**

He stood up in his kitchen, laying two slices of bread out on a plate. He was starving, and hoped that there would be enough ingredients for a sandwich.

On the radio,_ Me and Mrs. Jones _played softly. Ludwig would have been tempted to sing along, if it wouldn't have been extremely out of character for him. He looked around the pantry, and found peanut butter. He thought of the things he could make, and decided that he really wasn't in a "peanut butter" sort of mood. No, he wanted a BLT.

But...he was pretty sure there wasn't any bacon. Would wurst work?

No, it wouldn't...that would make it a WLT, which just didn't have the same effect and was harder to pronounce.

Bologna might work.

He walked around, pulling out the lettuce and tomato. He figured bologna would be fine, so he pulled it out too, only to find that it was one day expired. He threw it out, then imagined how angry Feliciano would be at him for tossing out "perfectly good food". He smiled to himself.

No, bologna would not be happening. But, he realized, that bratwurst started with a B.

He had plenty of bratwurst.

He pulled it out of the fridge, when he suddenly blushed and sat it down on the counter. Why was he still thinking about Feliciano? And why of ALL THINGS did a sausage remind him of Feli?!

He growled angrily at himself, and chopped the weiner in half.

[that sentence made me cringe.]

"I WILL HAVE MY BLT," he said, angrily. "WITHOUT ANY MORE DISTURBING THOUGHTS!"

He paused.

_Feliciano._

_Damn it._

* * *

**Chapter 8, Part III  
A Phone Conversation**

He was awoken by a call on his cell phone. He checked the caller ID, hoping in his heart that it would be Feli.

No, it was Gilbert...who was in the next room.

He answered.

"Gilbert, why the hell are you calling me?"

"Because I'm way too awesome to be seen with you."

"Who's going to see us?"

"The air, Ludwig. The air will see us."

_"...what do you want?" _

"Advice..."

It got silent. His brother was asking him for advice? This never happened...in fact, it was rare for his brother to even say hello to him...

"Go on?"

"Well...all of my friends..."

Ludwig waited for him to finish, even though he already knew the end of the sentence.

"They just don't want to talk to me anymore. It's been happening throughout the year...it's as if they don't want to be seen with me. They were my friends at the beginning of the year...but now..."

"Well, has anything happened to cause the change?"

"The only thing that's happened this year is me losing my star spot on the football team to your weirdo friend, Alfred..."

Ludwig looked down. Yeah, Alfred...

"He hasn't even spoken to our group in weeks, Gilbert..."

"So you've lost a friend...I've lost all of mine..."

He waited patiently, until he heard what sounded like a sniffle on the other end of the line.

"G-Gilbert?"

It hung up...

He sighed. So Gilbert was...crying...

* * *

**end-of-chapter notes.  
**I have newfound loves for Ray Charles, the Beatles, and Prince. Which is weird, because I never really paid them any attention.  
I CAN'T WAIT FOR SCHOOL TO START. *is a nerd*  
Oh yeah, reviews? :D  
And, tell your friends how bloody awesome this story is while you're at it.


	9. January

**An.  
**Don't ever listen to anything anyone tells you about yourself. You're the only person who knows you.  
Yeah, this chapter's based on my life again. :I

* * *

**Chapter 9.  
January.**

Over the course of a week, he saw Alfred less and less.

There was a certain unexplainable hole in his heart. Alfred didn't love him back. He never cared. He wouldn't answer his text messages, he wouldn't pick up the phone, he didn't even say hello in the mornings anymore. And it wasn't because anything was upsetting him - it was because he had more important people to hang out with.

"I guess he doesn't need me anyore."

He had already said this ten times this morning, and yet the words just didn't seem to be coming out right. At lunch, where he now only sat with Ludwig and Feliciano, he didn't really have anyone to talk to that he was close with. Ludwig looked up at him, noticing something was wrong, but he really didn't know what to say. He knew exactly what was going on in Arthur's head. Nothing he could say would make him feel better.

Feliciano, noticing Ludwig's attention stray towards the blonde, also turned his head.

"Veh, Arthur...you've been really quiet."

"Oh? S-sorry..."

He wasn't sorry. There was nothing to say.

"It's about Alfred, isn't it?"

"No, it's not about fucking Alfred."

"You miss him?"

Arthur started to argue, but caught himself. _Yes. I fucking miss him._

"No, I don't. I just can't believe I really confided in such an asshole. I told him everything...and he's just...dropping me."

"Well, maybe he isn't? He didn't say anything to you, did he?"

"No..."

"Then perhaps it's just a stage. If he didn't say anything to you about it, then he can't be angry with you over anything. I think he's just trying to make new friends."

Great. That's exactly what he wanted to hear.

"Sure," he said, attention reverting back to his half-eaten sandwich. He really wasn't hungry.

He stood up and walked towards one of the inconveniently placed garbage cans, only to bump in to a tall figure.

"O-oh, I'm sorry," he said, looking up to match gazes with his old friend. Those blue eyes looked down at him without a hint of admiration.

"Nah, dude. It's cool."

Arthur stared at him as he tossed his food away. He'd barely eaten anything, which definitely wasn't like him.

"So, Alfred...where've you been?"

"Oh, just hanging out."

_Hanging out?_

"So, why haven't you sat at our table?" he asked, a hint of irritation in his voice. Alfred didn't seem to notice the anger.

"I'm sorry, man - I guess I've just been making so many friends. It's hard to see all of them at the same time, you know? I can't divide my attention very well..."

_Divide your attention? You've been sitting with the football guys all week. And the week before._

"You don't say..."

Arthur pressed his tongue against his cheek. Al knew this look as a warning sign for when a rant was about to begin. He thought of a way around this - he didn't want to stand here and listen to his friend bitching at him. He had other places to be.

"L-look, Arthur...if you want, you can come sit at my table."

"With the football guys and slutty girls?"

"Hey, they're not slutty-"

"No. I'd rather not," he said, and he turned away in a brisk manner. Al stood there, wondering if he should say anything, when his shoulder was grabbed by Vash.

"Hey man, you coming back or what?" he asked. Alfred nodded.

"Yeah."

* * *

**Chapter 9, Part II  
You Were a Waste of Time.**

Today, it was raining.

He sat in his French class, biting the end of his pencil. The test was over, and he really just wanted to go home. The guy behind him was being unusually quiet today. Was something on his mind?

"Hey," Arthur said, spinning around. Francis looked up at the same time he spoke, as if he were also about to say something. "Oh, uh...you go first."

Francis looked down. "Well, er...have you been feeling alright lately?"

What the hell?

"Of course I've been feeling alright. You know, other than the fact that my best friend in the world hasn't been speaking to me and I'm pretty sure he hates me. Oh, and to top it off, I don't have any other best friends at lunch or anything. Why?"

Francis rolled his eyes at the sarcasm.

"Look, Iggy," he said, using a nickname Arthur hadn't heard in forever. "I know you must be upset...what makes you think he hates you?"

Why did this French bastard want to know anything related to his life?

"He just hasn't said a word to me since...since forever. I try to talk to him, but he always cuts it short, or just altogether ignores me..."

Francis tilted his head. His hair flowed with him, naturally and softly. He looked kind of like a painting. "Well, that's stupid...look, if something happens...you could always talk to me?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow, then turned back around. "Yeah? Thanks."

Why the hell did this weirdo want to talk to him all of a sudden?

* * *

**Chapter 9, Part III  
Taylor Swift Probably Wrote a Song About You.**

Arthur made his way home. It was the end of January now, and he was dying for this weekend to just hurry up and happen. Every minute alone in his house was a blessing, because even though he was alone at school, he didn't have to suffer through all of the every day bullshit.

He liked to think of things like this: everyone has a bullshit meter, and when it reaches the top of the chart, you just can't handle people anymore. Those who he had seen go through some major life events that involved massive amounts of bullshittery had all gone completely bonkers. He didn't want to be like them - being deemed insane was enough, to actually be insane had to be torturous.

He walked down the sidewalk, trying hard to keep Alfred out of his mind. Why should he even bother thinking about someone that really didn't give a shit about him anymore?

_What makes you think he hates you?_

He looked around after getting that strange sensation of being watched. After nothing happened, he continued on his walk, picking up the pace.

"That weird French bastard tried to cheer me up," he said, grunting. "What the hell? I mean really, why does he want to talk to me? Why doesn't he just find some girl to be with? I'm sure that's much more fun than me, unless of course he's gay or bisexual, in which case..."

He stopped talking, then laughed at his own words.

"What am I saying? I'm not gay, I would never hook up with France!"

He grinned, then dropped his face back down to it's normal, slightly depressing state. Who was he kidding? He was totally gay...well, for Alfred. So, if Alfred didn't exist, he'd be straight-ish, or just not interested in anything.

The whole scenario was making his head spin.

He heard a car turn sharply down the road, and he span around to see what the commotion was. A green car that belonged to Vash was driving well beyond the speed limit in the direction that Arthur was standing. In the car with the owner sat Alfred, and the rest of the football team, with the exception of Gilbert. Alfred's upper body was hanging out of the car, drink in hand.

Bottled drink in hand.

Beer.

"Hey, you!" he yelled, making sure that Arthur was really paying attention. Arthur jumped, realizing what was about to happen, and ran for his house. He was only a block away, but the car was getting closer...

Something cold and hard hit the back of his shirt, then shattered with the thundering sound of glass. A liquid came out shortly after the explosion, pouring all over him. It smelled rancid, and mixed bitterly with the cold January air.

The group of guys laughed as they pulled over to get Arthur's reaction. Even Alfred was grinning as he got his torso back into the car. Arthur stared at all of them as if he had just been caught naked, unable to say anything but babbling sounds.

He gritted his teeth, then threw his bag on the ground as Alfred got out.

"What the hell was that for, Alfred?!"

He glared at him, all sense leaving his body and replacing itself with rage.

"Just having a little fun. What, are you gonna cry?"

Without thinking, Arthur's hand slammed into his ex-friend's cheek, sending blood gushing out only seconds later. If Alfred hadn't quit wearing his glasses, they'd surely have broken into several pieces.

Alfred looked up at him in shock, his friends cheering on a fight from their place. Arthur shook off surprised look on his own face. "Come on, hit me you bastard."

The dirty blonde looked around nervously, as if he were unsure.

"HIT ME, DAMNIT. GET IT OVER WITH."

He landed a punch on his stomach, causing Arthur to choke and double over into the ground. He kicked at him while he was down, causing what would later become massive bruises.

Arthur waited for him to stop, not letting himself scream. He slowly stood up, and grinned.

"You know what, Alfred? I get you now. You've never been my real friend - you just wanted popularity. You're a sick fuck."

Alfred kicked him in the leg, allowing a loud SNAP to make way as Arthur screamed and fell down. He stared at him for a few seconds before kicking mud onto his face and getting back in the car.

They drove off.

Arthur laid in the snow, sobbing, for what seemed like forever. He heard footsteps approaching, but didn't even bother to look up.

"Hey, are you alright?"

That accent...

He slowly turned his head and looked at the boy.

"Francis?"

* * *

**end of chapter notes.  
**I recently lost one of my best friends to a rare form of illness called "Idiot's Syndrome".  
I don't give a fuck about her anymore, and I wrote this chapter back when I was still really pissed off. I only edited it today.  
No, she didn't beat me up - there's no way she COULD have. I'm built like a dinosaur. ;D  
But um, yeah. I'm just ignoring her now. I've made better friends already, and the lack of drama in my life is amazing.


	10. February

**An.**  
Of course, my essays are always picked to read out loud to the class, so - GUESS WHAT GAIZ, I GETZ TO REED AN ESSAY TOMORROW.

Oh, and for the reviewers - DON'T WORRY, THIS ISN'T A FRUK. There might be a small amount of it, but it will remain a USUK.  
And by small amount, I mean incredibly awkward one-sided love stories that would scare the shit out of Arthur if he knew.

So, don't worry. And please, don't Fruk me. I'm still a virgin, and I don't plan on losing it until I meet Ezio Auditore. ;D

* * *

**Chapter 10.  
February**

Ah, February. An utterly disgusting time of year, February is infamous for "St. Valentine's Day", a marketing ploy to get people to buy chocolate and give it to their lover, only to find out that the receiving end is allergic to chocolate, which basically is telling them, "Hey, I love you, and I hope that on this romantic date, you get explosive diarrhea and can't leave the toilet."

[Well, maybe that's only me.]

It's also a day to buy shitty fake flowers from the dollar store (or Wal-Mart) and proclaim your "true love" to the slut in your English class. Whoever has the nicest fake bouquet usually gives said whore a ride on the disco stick, then breaks up with her the week afterwards because she has a really bad personality and an enlarged asshole that can't contain shit correctly.

[I just ended the first two paragraphs with defecation. Awesome.]

However, it wasn't quite there yet. You see, this chapter begins with the very first day of February, which happened to fall on a Tuesday. The hallways were decorated with pinks and purples and reds and other disgusting organ colors. When Arthur entered the school grounds, he wanted to vomit. Not only because he had a broken leg and everyone was _fucking_ staring at him, but how the freshmen were admiring the halls, and everyone was frantically trying to pair up.

He dropped his book on the floor and cursed himself as a bunch of teenagers ran over to try and help him. Francis made his way over and beat them to it, not only picking up the textbook, but taking everything else from Arthur's hands.

"Oh, hello Francis," Arthur replied. Only days ago had Francis helped him home after he was attacked by Alfred, and they were already becoming good friends in a normal, friendly, not sexual way.

"You're going to need help again today, and this time, I'm not going to let you refuse. You were miserable yesterday, Iggy."

Arthur sighed, and nodded his head. They found a table to sit at, since the bell hadn't rung yet. Ludwig and Feliciano were nowhere to be found. He looked over his shoulder to see Heracles' harem of women crowding around him, fighting for who would sleep with him thirteen days from now. His response: "Maybe it could be Valentine's Month, and I could sleep with each of you?"

Surprisingly, they took the bait.

"Hey, Francis?"

"Mm? What is it?" he asked, smiling in a friendly way.

"Why don't you do that? You know, take advantage of women? You could...I mean, you have a following."

"Because, romance isn't something that you can just toss around...you see-"

The bell rang.

_Thank Jesus._

* * *

**Chapter 10, Part II  
IT'S THE GREAT VAGINA, LUDWIG BROWN.  
**

Here we go: Valentine's Day.

Ludwig was pacing the ROTC classroom, watching the few girls in the class making moves with the few semi-attractive-but-nowhere-near-as-attractive-as-him guys. He was going to do it...

He was going to celebrate this holiday.

Of course, he didn't want to just buy a bouquet or chocolate or something else cliche and annoying. However, upon trying to think up something original, he realized that nothing is original on Valentine's Day unless you're a billionaire, so - guess what - he made a card.

"Hey, Beilschmidt!"

It was Kirkland.

"Yes? What is it?" he asked, not willing to talk to anyone due to the nervous tension.

"Are you going to give anything to your lover today?"

"M-my lover?! What on earth are you talking about?!"

Of course, the shouting attracted the attention of all of the other cadets.

"You know..."

"No, I don't know..." he said, trying his best to not come out about his crush.

Kirkland stared at him for a good minute before the bell rang and dismissed them all.

"Very well then, have a good Valentine's Day!" he shouted, running out of class. Ludwig quickly made his exit as well, because A.) the ROTC classoom smelled like horse shit and B.) he had Feliciano to catch up with.

He all but sprinted down the hallway, knowing that if he didn't make it to the end in time, he'd miss Feliciano by a long shot.

Of course, as is cliche in anime, he ran into him quite literally.

"Oh, hello Luddy!" he yelled, smiling. Luckily, the noise of the hallway prevented anyone from hearing the nickname.

"F-Feli..." he responded, dumbly. Feliciano tilted his head, raising an eyebrow curiously.

"You look like you just saw a ghost, Luddy."

"I didn't...I just...um..."

His face was turning a light shade of pink that matched the hallway's odd smelling ribbons.

"Here."

He handed Feliciano his card and ran off.

_Please read it, Feli! Please!_

Feliciano stared at the card for a second, then smiled as he opened it. On the outside, there were two poorly drawn (but exceptionally well drawn for Ludwig) figures, one with brown hair and one with blonde. They weren't holding hands or kissing, but just standing beside each other on a hill.

"Oh, Luddy..." he sighed, not very impressed but still happy that Ludwig had actually given him something. That's when he opened it to find that it wasn't so simple - it was a flip book, where when he turned the pages, it showed an animation of Ludwig's character getting closer to Feliciano's until eventually he kissed his cheek. It ended with a simple "Be mine?" signed by Ludwig.

Feliciano stood there, blushing for quite some time, before he realized that he was going to be late to his next class.

_I'll see him after school, _Feliciano thought, suggestively smiling. Today was going to be fun.

* * *

**Chapter 10, Part III  
This is going to be a long fucking chapter.**

Arthur made his way to Francis' car, since he had offered to drive him home. It was definitely quicker, and easier on his leg.

"Hey, Arthur!"

He turned around and, of course, there was Francis, running towards him.

"Hello, Francis. You still going to give me a ride?"

"Yes, of course..." he said, catching his breath. "Erm, I have a few questions to ask you, since we're friends and all..."

"I can give you a few answers, but don't expect me to pour out my life story. I'm sort of having trust issues."

"I understand," he said, opening the car door for his crippled friend. Arthur sat down and put his books on the ridiculously clean floorboard. Francis got in the driver's seat. "So...well, this one's personal."

"Go on?"

He put the keys in and started the car up, turning the heat on high. "Did you love him? Alfred, I mean?"

"I'm not-"

"Yes you are."

Arthur sighed. Of course, this guy was French - he was a walking gaydar.

"Yes, I did."

"Do you still?"

"He beat the shit out of me...and..." he sighed, shaking his head. "Well...for some reason, I do...why?"

"Because, being alone on Valentine's Day is depressing. I have a few dates I could hang out with after school, but if you're going to be alone..."

Was he asking him to hang out, or asking him out?

"I'm fine," Arthur said, letting Francis down a little. "If I can't spend it with Alfred, why would I want to romantically spend the day with anyone else?"

"I didn't mean...Well, don't you want to hang out?"

Arthur sighed. "Just um...not today, okay?"

Francis pulled over onto his street. "Suit yourself. Have a good day, Arthur!"

He smiled, and decided to flatter him by practicing his french. "À plus tard, Francis."

Francis smiled. "Au revoir."

* * *

**Chapter 10, Part IV  
GASP, A PART FOUR.**

Feliciano walked home with Ludwig, and nothing happened for the longest time, which irritated him beyond belief.

"So?" Ludwig asked.

"So...what?"

"Did you erm...was it okay? I'm not the best artist, but..."

Feliciano grinned. "It was fantastic. I loved the whole concept of an animated card...I'll keep it forever, Luddy."

Ludwig blushed and looked away.

"Shall we...go inside?"

They stood awkwardly outside of Ludwig's house.

"Y-yes, that sounds fine."

"My brother's gone...but he'll be back soon."

The two entered the house and sat on the couch, watching cartoons like mature high school boys.

Feliciano kept looking at Ludwig, who was too sucked in to the TV to notice. He couldn't decide whether to make a move, or just sit there awkwardly.

"Lud-"

"Feliciano, I-"

They both stared at each other, then looked away, faces reddening. Feliciano knew what was about to happen, so why didn't it just hurry up?

"You go first," Feliciano said.

"Alright...um...so...it's Valentine's Day..."

"Yeah?"

Ludwig blushed and looked him in the eyes, begging him to just take the awkwardness away. Feliciano smiled, and leaned forward. Ludwig's heart stopped as those beautiful lips pressed against his, lightly, but lasting. The two sat there, not moving, for several seconds, before one of them decided to make it better and add more lip movement.

Feliciano put a hand against Ludwig's face.

"Luddy...thank you for today...I thought you'd never say anything..."

The blonde pressed his forehead against his crush's, smiling.

They stayed like that until the door opened, then returned to their previous positions. While Gilbert sat with them to watch TV, both of them couldn't help but miss each other's warmth.

* * *

**end of chapter notes.  
**GOD, I SUCK AT ROMANCE.

Look, a review game!  
The question is: How do you cheer yourself up?  
My answer is: Assassin's Creed usually helps, but other than that, I go on frantic cleaning sprees until I pass out from exhaustion. That, or I talk to my gay best friend, because he's just that amazing.  
I used to complain to people, but that tends to lead to people bitching about me in return. :I


	11. Alfred's Rhapsody

**An.**  
My essay reading went extraordinarily well. Apparently I'm the best writer in my class. As well, we read The Crucible out loud, and I got to be Abigail. I was one of the few people acting with my voice, and during Act Three, where everyone's all psychotically screaming at each other, I got to scream like, five times. It was fantastic, and the hot guy that sits behind me keeps complimenting me~ Ah yes, it's good to be alive.

* * *

**Chapter 11.  
****Alfred's Rhapsody.**

Parties, at the hands of teenagers, usually suck. That's why they always have alcohol - to make it seem like they don't suck so bad. The reason they need alcohol is simply because the hosts of the party are so bland, they can never think up any fun ideas that don't involve making everyone a little dumber beforehand...

And, like every good story, a party was going on tonight, in the biggest house of the nicest neighborhood.

All throughout the house, the music was blasting heavily. The bass, which must have been turned up higher than the music itself, shook the floors and sent vibrations through each occupant. There had to have been around thirty or forty people here. There were about four people in bedrooms together, while the rest of the party-goers grinded (very out of tune) to the poorly scripted rap song. This, much like it's predecessors, was a rap about hoes and money making off of said prostitutes.

Alfred made his way towards the kitchen, empty glass in hand, and passed by the host on his way.

"Oh, hey, Heracles. This party rocks, man," he said, slurring his words a little.

"Thank you for coming, Alfred...don't drink too much, okay? You're welcome to stay the night, I just don't want you to throw up everywhere."

"Awe, man, shucks - you don't have to worry about little old me."

He entered the crowded kitchen and poured his fourth glass of beer. It wasn't the good kind of beer, either. It was the shitty kind that old men guy not for the sport of alcohol, but for the sole purpose of getting off-the-rocker drunk. In other words, it probably began with "Bud".

That's when a rather attractive girl (and since he was drunk, EXTREMELY attractive _woman_) entered the kitchen and gave him the look. You know the look. The Kristen Stewart fuck-me-right-now look.

She had straight blonde hair and green eyes. Her dress was revealing, but not revealing enough, showing cleavage and much of her thighs. It was a wonder that she got away with wearing it out of her house without being pulled over for prostitution. He tried to get a good look at her boobs, which (thanks to the beer) zoomed in and out. He couldn't tell if they were B's or D's. Or C's. Whatever.

She wore dark makeup around her eyes that resembled a raccoon, and didn't really do anything for her at all except make her look desperate. Unless she was going for a Kesha look, which would have also been an acceptable description.

He approached her.

"Are you looking at me?" he asked, grinning. She smiled back.

"I am looking at you. Why? Is there a rule that says I'm _not_ allowed to look at you?"

"Well, I don't know. I've been told I'm god-like."

"Oh dear," she played along, touching his arm. "Then I might not want to look at you - I might go blind."

"Nonsense..." he said with a smirk, stroking her hand. "Gods can do anything, and that involves change their appearance. You can look at me right now, since I'm only at fifty percent sexiness."

This made sense to him, and to her, but not to anyone else.

"You don't say? Well, where does the rest of the sexiness go?"

"In. My. Pants."

To anyone that wasn't drunk, this would have been one of the worst cases of flirtatious wordplay ever. But to them, he just just grabbed her by the crotch with a lasso...however that works...

The two made their way up the first set of stairs and into a bedroom, where sex that honestly wasn't that good or heartfelt took place.

Around twenty minutes later, they sat on the bed, clothes half-on, not looking at each other. The girl pulled out a cigarette.

"Hey, man...want one?" she asked. Alfred stared at her and took one, then made his way to the balcony that was right outside of the room. He stared at the stars, and looked down at the cigarette.

Turning around, he noticed that the girl was leaving the bedroom and heading back to the party. Her stagger was noticeable, and he couldn't tell if it was from him or the beer.

Hopefully, it was from him.

He turned back around and looked up once more, re-focusing his attention on the stars. He thought about how him and Arthur used to try and find planets with the telescope, and how frustrated his friend would get when he stood too close to him. A smile came to his lips and he searched for the group of stars that would form Scorpio as a constellation. He'd always wondered how that looked like a scorpion at all. Then again, most constellations looked nothing like what they were supposed to resemble. But Scorpio just looked like a sperm...which was probably why they always had the most perverted horoscopes.

He sighed, unable to think straight.

_"You know what, Alfred? I get you now. You've never been my real friend - you just wanted popularity. You're a sick fuck."_

Alfred looked back down at his cigarette. Was this really what he wanted? He tried to remember when it all went completely downhill. He could have managed to stay friends with Arthur and still be on the football team.

_"Oh, hey Vash. What's up?"_

_"Well, we were wondering if you wanted to sit with us for the day?"_

_Alfred looked around at his friends, slightly astonished. "U-um..."_

_Arthur nudged him. "Just go," he whispered, smiling._

_"What? Are you sure?"_

_"It's not like it'll be every day, just...you wanted to make more friends. Don't let us hold you back!"_

_Alfred sighed, then nodded._

_"Sure, Vash. I'll be right there," he said, standing up and grabbing his food tray. "I'll see you after school, Arthur."_

_"Yeah."_

There. That had to have been it...

Alfred rolled his eyes and lit the cigarette.

"What the fuck am I thinking? Of course I'm happy."

He put it to his mouth, but then gagged and decided that throwing up over the ledge and onto one of the bushes sounded like a better idea.

* * *

**Chapter 11, Part II  
****Make New Friends, But Keep The Old.**

****Vash was nowhere to be found during lunch, leaving Alfred with the rest of the football team. He didn't really talk much without Vash around, so he decided to go sit outside with Heracles and his harem.

"Oh, hey Alfred..."

"Hey, man..."

He sat down and looked blankly at the brunet, whose women were nowhere to be found today.

"You really don't look so good, Alfred. You feeling alright?"

"Hm? Oh, er...I guess."

"Life in the fast lane becoming too much for you?"

Alfred blushed and nodded, then shook his head. He wasn't sure how to respond. Heracles smiled at him.

"Sometimes, you've just got to take a break. Relax and unwind a little, spend some time by yourself. That's what I'm doing today. That party caused a lot of trouble for my girls."

"Oh...you don't say..."

He had never even gotten the blonde girl's name.

"Look, if you need some alone time, or just quiet time, outside is a great place to be. I'll even stop talking if you want me to."

Alfred smiled.

"If I wanted you to shut up, I'd have used my Jedi mind tricks to make you quiet a while ago."

Heracles stared at him, dumbly.

"You know...Star Wars?"

"No..."

"Oh..."

They stared at each other for a few seconds. Then, Alfred laughed.

"Dude, I'm just messing around. I heard one of the nerds talking about it earlier!"

"Oh, you don't say?" Heracles said, a small grin coming back to his face.

Alfred felt the relief wash over him, thankful that he hadn't just lost cool points with Heracles.

* * *

**Chapter 11, Part III  
One Is Silver, and The Other Is Gold.**

****Alfred had soon found out that Vash was gone during lunch for a meeting with the principal. Apparently, he had gotten a scholarship offer. He didn't give any more details, and just mentioned that he'd be telling Alfred as soon as he got to the car.

And so, that's where he headed - to Vash's car.

He was in a rush, and didn't really pay attention to where he was headed, when - SLAM - he bumped into a familiar face.

He really needed to start watching where he was going.

He opened his eyes as he landed on the ground, and looked up.

"A-Arthur?" he asked, a little dazed from lack of sleep.

"I'm sorry," the boy said. "No, it's Gilbert. H-here, let me help you up-"

"Gilbert?!" he said, jumping to his feet and changed moods entirely. "Watch where you're going, faggot! You could have actually hurt me!"

Gilbert would have normally reacted with anger, but he knew better with Alfred. He stepped backwards. "I-I'm sorry." His eyes looked down in shame.

"Yeah, well, you should be. Now, get the fuck out of my way."

The pale boy growled at his sour attitude, and got back in his way, causing Alfred to bump back into him.

"What the fuck, Gilbert? Move the hell out of my way!"

"No."

Alfred grabbed him by the collar and lifted him a few inches off the ground, staring him dead in the eyes. A crowd of staring teens watched, but didn't dare come any closer. A few people whispered about Gilbert, but no one said anything bad about Alfred.

"Watch your mouth, smart-ass. Do I need to get you like I did last time?"

Gilbert gulped at his usage of the words "get you", and shook his head. He didn't need another fight - he barely snuck it by his parents last time, with the bruises and all. "N-no, you're fine. I'll go. I'll go."

Alfred sat him down and watched as he ran off behind the gym. He shook his head and walked towards the car...

Gilbert continued running, only to bump into another person once more. He was shaking and his eyes were tear-lined, though he hadn't really began to cry. He couldn't, not here.

"I'M SORRY!" he yelled, only to be grabbed by the wrists. "PLEASE DON-"

"Gilbert! Gilbert! Brother! Chill out!"

Gilbert opened his eyes to see a blurry Ludwig holding him. Beside him stood Feliciano, who was holding onto the blonde's sleeve.

"W-Oh...sorry, Ludwig...I..."

"What's wrong? Why the hell have you been acting so strangely?"

Feliciano tugged on his sleeve. He looked down at him.

"Yes, Feliciano?"

"I just saw it all...it was Alfred. He threatened him."

Ludwig narrowed his eyes and looked back to his brother. "Is this true?"

Gilbert blushed. "No."

"...tell me the truth."

"...Ludwig...the reason my friends have all left me is because...well, you already know me and Alfred hated each other...and...well...he wanted to ask Elizabeta out. I told him he shouldn't, because..."

"Because?"

"Well, two reasons. One was that she had just broken up with that douche, whatever his name was...and the other was that, well...I liked her..."

"So what? Why did your friends leave you because you and Alfred liked the same-"

"Because then, Alfred hit me. Literally. He threw punches, kicks, and - naturally, I was shocked, so I had a hard time fighting back, but...even when I did start to fight back, he was so strong...he beat the shit out of me, Ludwig. My friends just decided he was a better alpha-male. Hell, even Vash is under him now, and he was always above me."

Ludwig stared at him, then moved his eyes around his body to look for injuries. As soon as Gilbert made the move to pull his sleeve down, Ludwig pulled it back up to see fresh cuts and, on the biceps, bruises. They were light, but if they were remains of the fight from back then, then they had to have been horrible.

"You're...cutting?"

"So? Do you have a problem with that? Why the hell are you just now caring, Ludwig!?"

Ludwig let go of him and gently pushed him out of the way. Gilbert stared at his back.

"Where are you going?"

Ludwig turned around with fire in his eyes and ice in his frown. "I'm going to beat the ever-loving shit out of that bastard."

"Ludwig!" Feliciano yelled at him, shocked.

"Don't," Gilbert said, causing Ludwig to turn.

"And why not?"

"Because, that won't fix things. Obviously, you could beat the shit out of any guy in the school. But me sending my little brother to beat up Alfred? That'd make things worse, for both of us. Just let it go!"

"...Fine."

Ludwig walked back to Feliciano and hooked arms with him.

"L-Ludwig-" Gilbert began.

"If your friends left you because that jackass beat you up, then why even bother fighting for them? You should drop it, too."

The two stared at each other for a long time.

"...Okay...but..."

"But what?"

"...Ludwig, Feliciano...can I walk home with you guys?"

* * *

**end of chapter notes.**

I love when I have free time during the school year. This was one of my few opportunities to write.  
Comments, guys?  
Oh, and here's another quiz question!  
"Do you watch anything besides anime? If so, what is it?"  
My answer: I'm old school, ish. I love Malcolm in the Middle, I watch it on Netflix obsessively.


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